"What do I do?"
What she should do is find a safe place with alphas she trusts. What she should do is let someone take care of her through the most intense physical experience of her life. What she should do is not spend her first heat alone, confused, overwhelmed, possibly in danger.
What I want to tell her is that she should come to the packhouse. That we would take care of her.
But I don't say any of that. Because she's Callum's ex-fiancée. Because we agreed to stay away. Because telling her the truth would blow up everything.
"We'll figure it out," I say. "I'll prescribe some medication to help with the symptoms. Suppressants won't work anymore, but there are other options. Heat blockers. Hormone regulators. And I want to see you again in three days to check your levels."
She nods. Still pale. Still scared. And I hate that I'm the one making her feel this way.
"Pedro?"
"Yeah?"
"Does Callum know? About the omega thing?"
The question is so quiet I almost miss it. But I don't. And the fact that she's asking, the fear in her voice when she says his name, tells me everything I need to know about why she ran.
"I don't know. Did you tell him?"
"No." She wraps her arms around herself, and the defensive gesture makes my chest tight. "I found out three weeks ago and I never told him. I was scared of how he'd react. Of what he'd do with that information."
Good instinct. Callum would have used it. Twisted it. Made her feel like she owed him something because of her biology. Would have held it over her like a weapon.
The thought makes my jaw clench so hard I hear my teeth grind.
"Your medical information is confidential," I say carefully, forcing the words out through my clenched jaw. "I'm not going to tell anyone anything without your permission. Not even Callum."
Relief floods her face, and something in my chest loosens at the sight of it.
"Thank you."
"But Jessica..." I hesitate. This is important. "You should tell someone. Your mom. A friend. Someone who can be there for you when the heat hits. You shouldn't go through that alone."
"I know." She slides off the exam table, and her borrowed jeans slip down her hips. She tugs them up with a frustrated sigh that makes her breasts move under that too-tight sweater, and I have to physically look away. "I'm still figuring out who I can trust."
She looks at me when she says it. Really looks. And for a moment I think she's going to say something.
The air between us feels charged. Heavy. Like the moment before a storm breaks.
But she doesn't. She just picks up her purse and moves toward the door.
"Jessica."
She stops. Turns. And the way she looks at me, with those hazel eyes full of exhaustion and hope.
"Welcome back to Largo Waters."
That sad smile again. Small and fragile and devastating. "Thanks, Pedro. It's good to see you. Even if the circumstances are..." She gestures vaguely at herself, the exam room, the whole mess of her life.
"I know."
She leaves. The door closes behind her with a soft click. And I stand there for a long moment, breathing in the fading traces of her scent, trying to get my head straight.
Her sweet omega scent lingers in the exam room. On my clothes. On my hands where I touched her pulse, her arm, her neck.
I press my palms against the counter and drop my head, breathing hard like I just ran a marathon.
